


chasing shadows

by MaddieContrary



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rise of the Guardians Fusion, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26930377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieContrary/pseuds/MaddieContrary
Summary: Being alive is a foreign concept to Will three hundred years later, with no one else acknowledging his lonely existence. He knows, technically, what it means to be alive – he sees it every day, after all, when he gazes upon the children he watches over. The children eventually grow as the years go by and they’re replaced with a new generation of children; there’s an innate knowledge in him that tells him that he, too, must’ve been alive once.But with no one else to confirm this, he eventually resigns to the fact that he will forever remain in this limbo – forgotten, and unseen.***A Rise of the Guardians AU where Will is Jack Frost and Hannibal is Pitch Black.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 56
Kudos: 363
Collections: Hannigram, Reel Inspiration





	1. emergence

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Sylv's [lovely art on Twitter](https://twitter.com/smilockh/status/1319982665773117440?s=21) of Will as Jack Frost and Hannibal as Pitch Black. I love ROTG and I ship BlackIce, so it's only natural that I write a Hannigram AU of it because they fit so well lol.
> 
> Thank you for the beta, [Kai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_99/pseuds/Kai_99), this chapter would've been a mess without you XD
> 
> Next chapter posts tomorrow! (Yes, for real this time, it's written and ready to go lol.)

Will can recall his first thought upon discovering that the Moon had brought him back to Earth as a spirit: dread and loneliness, closely followed by the errant thought of “solitude at last”.

It was an odd thought to have, and to this day he can’t recall the reason for it, since he can’t remember anything beyond that. He only knows that he came into being one day, with a deep sense of certainty that he had been revived to “life” as he knows it now.

He can still recall those first few moments of coming awake in perfect clarity. It had felt like being awoken from a deep slumber, and he had gasped awake to the cold night air, alone and trembling.

The Moon was shining so bright above him when Will had floated to the surface, trying to make sense of where he was. In his panicked state, he realized that he was soaring in the sky when he looked around frantically and saw nothing but the vast sky around him, his body feeling ethereally weightless. He had grappled to find a hold on something then, anything to ground him. His one hand clenched uselessly in the air while the other held a wooden staff in its hold. Will had only acknowledged the oddness of the situation when he realized that he wasn’t falling down onto the ground – instead, he lay suspended in the air without anything holding him up.

He remembers how he had stared at the landscape beneath him, his eyes and balance adjusting to the vertigo from suddenly finding himself floating in the air. There was a frozen lake with a hole in the surface beneath him; it must have been the spot he had emerged from, and the surface of the lake had reflected the moonlight above him. _The Moon,_ his mind supplied, and somehow he had known that it was the Moon who had revived him. From what, he did not know.

After discovering that he could will his body to move, he floated down back to the surface, the wind buffeting his landing. His feet had barely touched the frozen surface before he felt and saw _frost_ coming out of his feet, the sheen of frost quickly unfurling and expanding beneath his feet onto the solid surface, crystallizing in a haphazard pattern.

Surprised and more than a little disturbed, he had experimented with his newfound abilities, the way he could produce frost at an errant thought (which he eventually learned to control), his ability to float through the air with the wind carrying him to where he wanted to go, and the way the staff in his hand felt like an extension of himself. Although he doesn’t usually use his staff for anything extraordinary, the piece of wood feels oddly like home to him.

His discoveries had been exhilarating until he realized that no one could see him. This was made clear when he flew to find the nearest village, trying to seek out an explanation of what was happening – only to discover that every single human he tried to speak to had walked through his corporeal form, none of them noticing his presence.

Being alive is a foreign concept to Will three hundred years later, with no one else acknowledging his lonely existence. He knows, technically, what it means to be alive – he sees it every day, after all, when he gazes upon the children he watches over. The children eventually grow as the years go by and they’re replaced with a new generation of children; there’s an innate knowledge in him that tells him that he, too, must’ve been alive once.

But with no one else to confirm this, he eventually resigns to the fact that he will forever remain in this limbo – forgotten, and unseen.

For all that he thought he would welcome the solitude, there’s also a dull ache that comes with the knowledge that he is utterly and absolutely alone.

He hears stories of other spirits; he couldn’t _not_ hear about them, what with all the children he observes during every moment of his being. Most often, they would talk about Santa Claus, the Sandman, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Their names are ingrained in Will’s mind and he finds himself unable to escape the longing he feels at the thought of companionship, of finding kindred spirits.

He had encountered at least one of them once, by accident. Stumbling upon the Easter Bunny wasn’t part of his plan, but it was a surprise to see that yes, apparently other spirits _do_ exist. The surprise turned to delight when he realized that the other spirit could see him in turn.

Delight had quickly turned into bitterness when the Easter Bunny turned out to be a posturing jerk, the other spirit looking annoyed at Will’s overture of friendship, warning Will to stay out of the way while the Guardians do their jobs in “guarding the children”, or whatever it is that these Guardians are purportedly doing.

Will had decided then that maybe solitude wasn’t the worst thing, after all.

Still, there comes a time when he would be brought low by the thought that none of the children he watches over will ever believe in him, no matter what he did to inject the spirit of playfulness into the children’s lives.

It’s not like Will has anything else to do, though, as the spirit of winter. Even an unacknowledged spirit still has to do their job, and Will takes his seriously. He contributes to the frosty winter without fail every year, and attempts to inject some fun and joy into the season even if he knows that his works will go unnoticed.

Whenever his job in the Northern Hemisphere is over and he slinks back into the vast, snowy landscape where it’s always winter, he often wonders just what is the purpose of his lonely existence.

Once, when his loneliness took him to dark places, he had asked the Moon, plaintive and desperate, on why he was brought to Earth. Predictably, he had received no answer.

Even now, the Moon looks on, its silence growing heavier with each day that passes.

His three hundred years of solitude is broken rather rudely when he encounters the Easter Bunny once again and basically gets kidnapped, which is something that he never thought would’ve happened in his entire existence. Sure, he had wanted some sort of interaction from someone, but this was not at the sort of interaction he was looking for.

He’s deposited somewhere near the North Poles, as far as his instincts could tell him, recognizing the particular smell in the air, the arrangement of the snow-capped mountains surrounding him. They’re in a large room that looks like a massive observatory, the space housing several machineries and equipment that Will doesn’t recognize, all arranged in a haphazard manner though the area remains uncluttered. Will’s attention is immediately caught by a large globe rotating slowly in the middle of the observatory, the massive display taking up almost all of the space.

A man stands before him, arms crossed across his body and eyes stern as his assessing gaze sweeps over Will. Despite the man being only slightly taller than Will, he feels larger than life, his stature hulking over everyone else in the room.

Speaking of…

Will takes a look around at the other pairs of eyes looking at him, the sound of their tittering drawing his attention to one person in particular. Said person actually swoops in to greet him first, eyes shining with excitement as she takes Will’s hand in hers, shaking it vigorously while she speaks rapidly.

“Hey, I’m Bev!” she gushes. “I’ve heard so much about you and your teeth, I can’t believe I get to finally meet you! Wow, your hair is super white – is it because of all the frost? Oh, I hope your teeth are as white as your hair! Okay, I know this is super forward but I can’t resist: can you show me your teeth?”

“My what now?” Will asks, wincing at the way Bev encroaches into his personal space in an effort to see his teeth, apparently.

The Easter Bunny gives a dry chuckle from where he stands apart from the rest, arms crossed and face contorted in dislike when he looks at Will. “Bev’s the Tooth Fairy. Obsessed with them molars.”

“As opposed to _you_ , who’s obsessed with multi-colored eggs,” another man interjects from the side, looking amused at the exchange. He turns to Will with a genuine smile and waves from afar. “I’m Jimmy. Also known as the Sandman.”

Will blinks, his gaze sliding from one spirit to the other. “I didn’t realize you’ve all got other names.”

Easter Bunny snorts, rolling his eyes. “’Course we do,” he mumbles. “Being the Easter Bunny is my job. I don’t want people to call me Easter Bunny all the time.”

“That’s what I call you,” Will retorts. “Since you never gave me your name the last time we met. Also, you don’t really look like a bunny to me.”

He gets a glare from the other spirit for that, and Bev hurriedly reenters the conversation, clearly used to being the mediator in the room. “Calm down, Bunny, not the moment,” she says with a wink before turning to Will.

Bev tilts her head. “What do the children call you, then? I don’t think I’ve ever heard the children call you by your name,” she muses.

“Because they don’t know I exist,” Will mumbles, avoiding their pitying stares.

“Tough luck,” Bev says, her smile kind but free from the cloying sympathy that Will hates. “So what should I call you? I’ve always heard the spirits calling you Frost.”

“Call me Will,” he says, wincing at the nickname.

“You can call him Zeller,” Jimmy pipes in with a grin, gesturing to the brooding Easter Bunny. “He can be pretty hard to like at first.”

Zeller opens his mouth to retort, though it’s quickly cut out when the large man finally speaks after minutes of silence, his booming voice ringing out through the observatory.

“Enough! Would you all stop being children and let me do my job?”

Jimmy frowns. “Well, since our jobs involve dealing with children most of the time, don’t you think that’s a little unfair—”

“Not the time, Jimmy,” Bev mutters, flying off to inspect the large globe, her wings fluttering prettily behind her as she flits around the globe.

“Let me guess,” Will says warily, turning to look at the other man, the only possible conclusion coming to the forefront of his mind. “...Santa Claus?”

“I’d prefer Jack,” the man grumbles, eyes narrowing. “How’d you know who I was?”

Will scoffs. “We’re in the North Pole, and all of the Guardians just so happened to be gathered here for some reason. Since I know who the rest of them are, that makes you Santa.”

Jack hums in consideration, looking impressed despite himself. “Perhaps Manny is right in choosing you, after all.”

“Manny?” Will asks, brows furrowed.

“The Man in the Moon,” Jimmy stage whispers, floating closer to Will and sprinkling some golden dust on him when he leans in to speak to Will.

“Choosing me for what? Do chosen spirits get kidnapped this often by you guys? Am I to be a sacrifice?” Will huffs, flicking off the dust from his shoulders.

Jack puffs himself up, visibly pleased at the thought of delivering the news, though the rest of the Guardians still don’t look too convinced. “You, Will, has been chosen to become part of the Guardians in our mission to bring light and joy into the children’s lives.”

Jack is acting as if Will should be impressed or even happy with the pronouncement, but Will is… flummoxed, to say the least.

“You’re joking, right?” he asks, gaze flitting from one Guardian to the other.

“I do not joke,” Jack huffs. “Well, maybe occasionally.”

The rest of the Guardians exchange looks with each other at that, though they wisely remain quiet.

“So let me get this straight,” Will says flatly, crossing his arms in irritation as he leans against his staff, “you kidnapped me and brought me here despite not having interacted with me before to tell me that I’m supposed to become a Guardian and help you guys out, just because the Moon asked you to?”

“Yes,” Jack says, looking pleased that Will had caught on to his simplistic outlook. “We need your help, and the Moon has appointed you as a Guardian.”

Will pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut in disbelief. “Where were any of you a few hundred years back? Heck, no one ever thought to, I don’t know, actually come and talk to me before this? Now that you suddenly need my help, you expect me to just agree and go with whatever it is you have planned?”

“Look, _Frost,_ ” Zeller pipes up, expression dark. “ _We_ have been busy actually doing our jobs while you’ve been busy playing around with the kids.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” Will gives a mirthless laugh. “If you haven’t noticed, I have been doing my job, thank you very much.” He gestures to the snow outside with his staff, throwing Jack a challenging look. “Why do you think the kids love winter and Christmas so much, huh? Who brought them the snow, the frost, and all the fun that comes with it?”

“Oh yeah, great job with that blizzard,” Zeller says, bowing mockingly. “I’m sure the kids loved _those_.”

Will bristles. “You know as well as I do that that was an accident.”

“Boys, enough!” Jack’s voice booms out again, silencing further retorts with a fierce glare. “Stop bickering! Zeller, you know what the Moon says, goes. And Will, as much as you don’t want to admit it, you know this too.”

“Yeah, well, what if I don’t want to?” Will mutters, feeling mutinous.

Jack’s shoulders sag at that, his expression softening. “What Zeller has mentioned is true. We have been busy of late, what with the booming population and the need to increase our resources to make sure we don’t miss a single child in between all the daily madness. Between that and other arising matters, you must forgive us for overlooking the other spirits.”

Will scoffs, shaking his head. “Other spirits. We probably don’t even merit a name if we don’t serve a function for you.”

Bev, who up to this point had stayed silent, flies nearby and hovers near Will, placing her palm on Will’s shoulder. “Will. I can’t say much for the others, but I can apologize on my own behalf. I’m sorry, and you’re right. We’ve been so busy with our day-to-day lives that it took a crisis to bring you to our attention. We shouldn’t have ignored you for so long.”

The fight leaves him almost as sudden as it comes, and he deflates, sighing. “I get it. Spirits rarely interact with one another unless we have to. Though I still don’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing here and why I was ‘made’ a Guardian.”

“Well, we’re here to explain,” Jimmy says. “Now that _that_ tense moment is over, can we please get back on track?”

Jack takes that as his cue to pick up the mantle, motioning Will to follow him as he walks towards the globe. It’s only when they approach the globe closer that Will sees the different colors dotted across the sphere; it looks as if there are clusters of gold and black dust fighting for dominance, the colors changing slowly and sporadically. There’s no pattern to the change, the colors dancing across each other in a rhythm he can’t quite make sense of.

“What am I looking at?” he asks, mesmerized.

“It seems that someone who we thought was long gone had come back to disturb the peace,” Jack says, his voice heavy. “We thought he had been too silent, but it seems that he’s now showing his face again.”

“Who’s he?” Will asks, annoyed. “Can everyone stop being cryptic?”

“The Nightmare King,” Bev supplies, pointing out the swirling black dust overtaking the gold ones, somewhere over the European continent.

Oh. Even Will has heard of that name. “The Boogeyman?”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that,” Bev warns with a teasing laugh. “I heard he jinxed the word somehow so he knows who used the name so he could get his revenge later. Last time Jimmy did that, he almost eviscerated Jimmy with his nightmares.”

Jimmy nods sagely. “I was lucky it was almost daylight. He had to retreat then.”

“His powers aren’t as strong when it’s daytime,” Jack explains off the question on Will’s face. “He can still move around, but his nightmare creatures are only ever useful in the dark.”

“I think he’s getting more powerful though,” Jimmy says, his forehead creasing. “I’ve never seen this kind of activity before. All of my sweet dreams for the children are being replaced with his nightmares somehow, and at an unprecedented rate!”

Will watches, transfixed, as the dark, swirling mass of dust swarms over the globe, overtaking the golden-covered area. It’s almost beautiful the way the formation dances around, the way the gold dust is overwhelmed so quickly and so easily.

Jack’s voice pulls him out of his reverie, the clap on his back startling him.

“–so now that you’ve come to help us, I’m sure we can stop him in no time at all!” Jack says, finishing up his speech with a pleased glance thrown at Will.

Will frowns and turns to look at Jack. “Hold on, I never said I’d help.”

The words seem to suck the air out of the observatory as every Guardian turns to him in various states of confusion — Jack’s surprise is written on his face, Bev is giving him a considering look, while Jimmy and Zeller are looking at him incredulously.

“You’re saying you’re not gonna help us?” Jimmy asks with genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Great, so I brought him here for nothing,” Zeller grumbles, though he shuts up when Jack turns to glare at him.

“And _why_ , might I ask, would you not want to help us?” Jack asks, his face turning darker at the perceived rejection.

“I mean,” Will amends, “I barely know any of you. I’ve been alone for three hundred years, and then I got kidnapped here — yes, Zeller, it’s a kidnapping if I didn’t want to be brought somewhere against my will — and then I got told that I’m supposed to help you guys, based on what the Moon told you?

“Hell, _I_ haven’t heard from the Moon in the last three hundred years I’ve tried to get a response out of it, so why the hell should I believe you and help you out?” he finishes bitterly, his grip on his staff rigid and stiff.

The room seems to grow colder with every word Will uttered, and this realization is the reason his attention is brought to the floor of the observatory, now coated with a fine layer of frost. Will winces at the realization that he must’ve unintentionally summoned the frost in his growing consternation.

“Sorry, that hasn’t happened in a while,” Will mumbles, trying ineffectually to remove the layer of frost covering the floor of the observatory. “It’ll thaw out… eventually.”

Jack is glaring at him, his gaze incredulous. “So you’re willing to put the happiness of all children at stake because Manny has been ignoring you?”

It sounds petty, even to Will’s ears, but he’s unwilling to back down from this, at least for now. Sighing, he runs a hand through his messy, white curls and gives a shrug. “I’m just saying I need time to think about it.”

Jack doesn’t seem to like the answer, and Will notes that the rest of the Guardians seem to have silently slipped away while they were both distracted.

“You will learn, as a Guardian, that we learn to put our own feelings aside,” Jack says, his voice low and stern. “The children _always_ come first. It’s not up to us to reject Manny’s decision, and in time, you’ll learn to understand why.”

Will huffs, and he uses his staff to kick himself off from the floor, soaring into the air as he prepares to make his escape, the wind carrying him on its wing. “I’ll let you know if I ever hear from _Manny_ ,” he says scathingly, and with that, he takes off.

It takes Will a while to calm down after his meeting with the Guardians, and he retreats to the landscape he calls home, trying to soothe his wounded pride.

That the Moon thinks he should be made a Guardian isn’t as perplexing as the fact that the Moon had actually communicated this to the other Guardians instead of him. All the past centuries he’s spent trying to seek out any answers from the Moon has been fruitless, and it grates at something in him that he’s now expected to do its bidding just because he’s told to.

There is a part of him that does yearn for companionship, however, and it’s that part of him that’s trying to push him into accepting the responsibility that comes with being a Guardian (one which he realizes he still has no full knowledge of).

He ponders on this later in the evening as he lets the wind take him towards a forest where he spots a frozen lake from above. Feeling impulsive, he flies down and plants his feet lightly on the lake, the frost spreading under his feet for a few seconds before he stops moving.

He starts to move across the lake, and the frost follows the motion of his feet as he skates over the icy surface, letting his mind wander while his body moves on its own volition. The movement feels instinctive, as if he’s done this countless times before, and he wonders yet again if he’s done this in his past life.

He must have, once. He recalls the conversation he had with the Guardians, most of them introducing themselves by name instead of by their profession. It stands to reason that they’d have to have gotten their names from somewhere previously, doesn’t it?

Will is so absorbed in his musings that he almost missed the dark, looming presence that intrudes into his consciousness. The back of his neck prickles with the sudden and certain awareness that he’s being watched.

Coming to a stop in his movements, he slowly glances around, trying to find the source of his uneasiness, and he almost misses it but for the glowing golden orbs he sees in the middle of the forest. At first, he thinks it’s a figment of his imagination. He blinks for a few times, only convinced that those are _eyes_ when he still sees it there, after minutes of staring.

He stands in the middle of the lake, transfixed in his spot, as the eyes move forward.

What emerges out of the forest is not something that Will has ever seen before, and the first thing that comes to mind when he finally sees the creature in its full view is that it’s _beautiful_. It looks like a stag, though he’s never seen a creature quite like this before. No, this stag is made up of a swirling mass of shadows, and when it moves, the shadow flutters in and out of his vision, motes of dust swirling in the aftermath of its movements.

He’s not sure how long the creature stayed there with him, but when it makes a move as if to leave, Will lets out an involuntary cry of dismay. Though he’s surprised at his own reaction, he’s also surprised when the creature stops in its track and beckons for Will to follow it.

Gripping his staff tightly, he steels himself and follows.

The stag’s pace is light and swift, and Will matches his own pace with the creature’s to ensure that he doesn’t lose sight of it. It seems to be heading deeper into the heart of the forest, the trees growing denser the further they go. When it finally stops in the middle of a small clearing, Will stops at the edge of the clearing as well, wondering if they’ve arrived at the creature’s intended destination.

He looks up, then, into the sky. It’s the start of the new moon cycle tonight, the night sky looking dark and dreary, the heavy clouds obscuring his vision further. The Moon is not there to see him.

The stag huffs to call for Will’s attention, and he returns his glance to it just in time to see the creature disappearing into the ground.

Startled, Will flies over to the spot the creature has disappeared into, brows furrowing as he observes a hole in the ground. It looks as if it used to be a makeshift well, but the structure for the well is long gone by now. What’s left is the mess of pulleys and ropes, and the clutter of wood panels meant to cover the opening in the ground.

Whatever is living below the ground now must have disturbed the covers, and once again Will steels himself, holding the breath he doesn’t particularly need, and floats downwards into the ground. His descent is slow and careful, trying to feel out the narrow space as it’s not a straight path. It takes him a while to figure out that there are other tunnels converging into the tunnel path he’s in, though he doesn’t care to explore them just now. He focuses on reaching the bottom until his feet finally hit the floor of the underground cavern he’s found himself in.

Letting out the breath he’s been holding, he looks around for the stag as his gaze flickers around the spacious cavern. There are no signs of life, and he doesn’t know how deep inside the ground he is in – the space itself looks like it might house something, spacious as it is, and he wonders just where he is when a voice suddenly speaks to him.

“It’s Will, is it not?”

The hair on the back of his neck rises in warning, and he swings around wildly, staff pointing outwards to search for the source of the sound.

When it speaks again, the voice echoes all around him, and Will can’t quite pinpoint its sources, so he forces himself to focus on the sounds around him instead.

“I see you’ve found yourself in quite a spot. Haven’t you ever heard of curiosity killing the cat, fond as you are of humans?” The smooth cadence of the voice is hypnotic, and Will finds himself mesmerized by it.

With his staff still raised, he looks around before he finally answers. “I only found myself in this spot, as you say, because you wanted me to.”

He hears an amused chuckle, and the sound echoes around him, the cavern a vast chamber that reflects every sound that they make. “You’re an interesting one, aren’t you. Do you mean to say that you knew where my nightmare was leading you to when you followed him?”

“I knew it would lead me to you.”

A considering hum. “And who am I, Will?”

“You’re the shadows hiding beneath the children’s beds, waiting for its chance to strike when the night comes.”

A startled laughter rings out throughout the cavern, softening into a pleased chuckle. “Spoken like a poet. I’m beginning to think I underestimated you, Will.”

Will leans on his staff, beginning to get tired of the charade. “Don’t you think it’s a bit rude for you to use my name when I still don’t know yours?”

“Oh, I’m sorry to have presumed. I assumed you knew mine.”

“I only know of you by… another name.”

There’s a displeased noise at that. “The humans do come out with such inelegant names. But I apologize, I agree it’s quite rude. You may call me Hannibal.”

“Hannibal,” Will says, testing the name on his tongue. “If you want to continue our talks, I’d prefer that we see each other face-to-face.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and Will is beginning to think that he’s made his first mistake when dealing with this other spirit, though his worry is dispelled when he begins to discern a change in the formation of the shadows. He stands still then, unsure of what exactly he’s waiting for.

He’s pleased to see the stag emerging from the shadows, the creature slowly emerging from one end of the tunnel. His breath hitches when he sees another figure following in the stag’s wake, and when they finally approach him, he loses his breath once more.

Whatever he was expecting out of this creature called the Nightmare King, feared by so many, it definitely wasn’t this refined-looking man, dressed in an ostentatious suit that becomes him, oddly enough. Unused to such a company, he only blinks at the other spirit until he receives a smile of amusement.

“Tongue-tied already?” Hannibal says. “And here I was beginning to be impressed with you. Though I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting someone like you, based on what I’ve heard of the winter spirit.”

Will sighs warily, his grip tightening on his staff. “And what exactly have you heard about me?”

Hannibal gives a tiny shrug as he moves closer to the stag, stroking the creature with a fond smile on his face. “That you’re a playful spirit who brings winter joys to the children. A little reckless. Somewhat fond of tricks.”

“I didn’t know the spirits have been having so much fun gossiping about each other,” Will spits out, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been eavesdropping on other spirits’ conversations?”

“I suppose it’s our only recourse when we’re deprived of any contact or companionship.”

Swallowing, Will’s attention snaps to the other spirit, noting the way Hannibal’s attention is similarly heightened, though the man pretends to be absorbed with his creature still.

“What would you know of that?” Will asks, his voice hoarse.

“Despite my appearance, I don’t usually mingle much with others.”

“Yeah, but that’s by design, isn’t it?”

Hannibal turns to look at Will, his gaze appraising. Inclining his head, he replies, “Yes, I don’t suffer fools. And my… profession is such that I work alone, in the darkness.”

“But you’re not really alone.” When Hannibal sends him a questioning look, Will gestures his staff to the creature standing beside Hannibal. “You have your creatures.”

“Ah. My nightmares,” Hannibal says, looking fondly at the stag and resuming his petting. “Yes, I’m rather fond of them. Alas, they’re not great conversationalists, even if they do make for great company.”

That gets a huff of laughter out of Will. “You didn’t say anything about the company needing to talk.”

“And so I haven’t,” Hannibal agrees, smiling. “But you are dancing around the real subject. Why did you come here, Will, knowing what you know of me? You with your keen insights, what could you possibly have thought when you decided to come here and find me?”

Will shrugs, looking away from Hannibal. “Maybe I just wanted some company, too.”

“Did you not find it with the other Guardians?”

Will’s head snaps back to Hannibal. “Were you… spying on me?”

Hannibal’s eyes gleam, the dark orbs of his eyes turning golden before it reverts to placidness once more. “I work with my shadows, Will. My nightmares and my shadows ensure that my reach is wide and all-encompassing. When there are rumblings of the Guardians welcoming a new blood into its fold, the world reverberates with it.”

Will huffs. “So you were spying on _us_. Same difference, really.”

Hannibal gives him a small smile. “I suppose I was. I needed to know the competition, after all.”

“What kind of competition are you talking about?” Will asks warily. “What are you really planning? It’s you, isn’t it? The one who’s been turning all of Jimmy’s dreams into nightmares?”

“I would’ve thought it was obvious,” Hannibal says with a raised brow.

“So what’s your endgame?”

“What do you think, Will? Can you figure it out with that amazing insight of yours?”

“Can’t be world domination, no fun in that for someone like you,” Will drawls, leaning on his staff as he looks — really looks — at Hannibal. “While you think it would be amusing for a day or two, ultimately that’s not what you want or need. You crave… something. Recognition? For someone to acknowledge that you can do this, even with the all-powerful Guardians guarding the children’s happiness…

“But no, that’s not exactly right either, is it?” Will continues softly, engrossed at what he sees. “While you’d like the recognition, you’re seeking something more. Validation. For someone to _see_ you. Discover the core of what you are, besides the facade of darkness and shadows you wove around yourself.”

Hannibal has been staring at Will throughout his observations, and though his expression remains placid, his eyes are growing steadily darker at the assumptions Will is making.

“You were so alone,” Will breathes out, seeing how Hannibal’s eyes narrow at the words. “You crave… a connection.”

The smile gracing Hannibal’s face is simultaneously beatific and horrendous, and Will finds himself captivated despite the instincts telling him to run.

“It seems I _have_ underestimated you,” Hannibal says softly, and he glides closer to Will, the shadows growing darker around him as it carries him forward.

Will holds his breath as Hannibal approaches, stilling himself. He wonders what would happen now, what sort of response Hannibal would give; he’d be afraid of dying if his existence doesn’t feel like a different sort of death already.

“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal purrs, his shadows caressing the edges of Will’s form, making Will shiver with the touch. “If I tell you you were right, what would you do, then? What brought you here, to appear before me so freely and willingly? Are you also seeking for some sort of… connection?”

As uncomfortable as he is with the close proximity, Will refuses to back down, refuses to break this moment between them suspended in time.

When Will finally speaks, he decides on the truth. “I was… curious.”

The other spirit was clearly not expecting the answer, and several seconds pass before Hannibal pulls back and watches Will with intent eyes as he begins to circle Will in a contemplative silence, studying him.

Will keeps a tight grip on his staff, ready to defend himself and bolt from this place the first chance he sees if Hannibal decides to attack him. He forces himself to stay silent, though, not wanting his body to give away his anxiousness at Hannibal’s lack of response.

“I admit I’m surprised, Will,” Hannibal says softly, stopping himself in front of Will once more. “I have yet to find someone who’s not afraid of me, of my nightmares. Most of the spirits do not see the potential of what I do. After all, if there is light, there will also be darkness. Neither one can exist without the other.”

“But you’re upsetting the balance,” Will retorts. “I saw what you did. Your nightmares are taking over the Sandman’s dreams.”

Hannibal shrugs minutely. “The Guardians have been complacent for so long, I thought it would be… fun to see what they would do if things were not in their favor. What’s life without a little fun at the human’s expense sometimes?”

“I don’t think I can be so cavalier about these people’s lives as you seem to be,” Will says warily, his staff poised for attack.

Hannibal looks disappointed. “Ah. And here I thought I’d found someone who could appreciate the darker things in life as I do.”

Will licks his lips, thinking of how to word it best. “You— your nightmares are beautiful,” he blurts out finally, deciding that Hannibal would appreciate truth rather than lies. “I… that’s why I followed when I saw him at the frozen lake.”

Hannibal tilts his head, a pleased smile on his face. “Do you? Thank you. It’s rare that someone describes my nightmares as beautiful.” He stares at Will for a few more seconds. “Is that the only reason you followed my nightmare? Because you were curious and you thought him beautiful?”

“Yes.” Will gathers his breath for several seconds before finally admitting, “And I was… alone.”

“We’re both as alone as we are without each other,” Hannibal agrees, humming in satisfaction at the answer. “I’m curious, then, why did you not join the Guardians in their fight then? You would be less alone. I would’ve assumed your compassion for the children would drive you to their cause soon enough. I’m sure Jack would be _most_ pleased.”

“I don’t care what Jack thinks,” Will snarls, wincing when he feels the frost beginning to creep on his staff where his hand sits on it. “I owe the Guardians nothing.”

Another pleased smile. “I believe we can both agree on that.”

“They haven’t called me before this. That they chose to include me now just because of the Moon’s direction means nothing to me. Not after three hundred years of solitude.”

There’s a nameless expression on Hannibal’s face then, though he quickly schools his expression after a split second, aware of his own tell. “Well. It seems we have now found each other. Both of us have felt the effects of solitude, how isolating it is.”

Will licks his lips again, noting how Hannibal follows the movement, how he doesn’t conceal his study of Will now that they have come to a crossroad of sorts. “It seems that we have,” Will echoes, at a loss for a response at the sudden emotion clamming him up. He can’t quite put a name to what he’s feeling, though he feels how his heart quickens in its pace, the feel of blood rushing to his face, warming it for the first time in centuries.

Hannibal seems to sense the shift, and he gives Will a kind smile, though his smile is full of teeth. “You are welcomed to come to me whenever you feel like you need company.”

He’s a little surprised at the offer, wondering if it’s as easy as that. After his only other encounter with another spirit a few centuries earlier, he had been wary of approaching any other spirits, reluctant to feel the sting of rejection again. For Hannibal to extend an offer of friendship after only minutes of conversation feels like a trap, but an enticing one nevertheless.

“What’s in it for you?” Will asks eventually.

“The same thing you’re seeking, I suppose,” Hannibal says simply, though Will suspects that’s probably not the whole truth. “Companionship.”

“How do I find you?”

Hannibal tilts his head and glances at the creature at his side, still standing beside him throughout their conversation, loyal to a fault. “You can always call on my nightmare, if you need to. He wouldn’t mind, I think, to be with you for a while.”

“You’d… give him to me to keep, like a pet?” Will asks, letting out an amused laugh.

“A different sort of companion,” Hannibal reminds him, grinning. Will notices the way his fangs glint even in the relative darkness.

“Okay,” Will says, shrugging. What does he have to lose anyway? “What’s his name?”

There are several seconds of silence where Hannibal looks visibly surprised at the question. “I don’t have names for my nightmares, Will.”

“So what do you call them when you need them?”

“They are an intrinsic part of me. I can summon them from my thoughts alone.”

Will huffs, shaking his head a little. “Well, that’s convenient for you.” A pause. “Can I name him?”

“Hmm, I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Hannibal muses. “He would for all purposes be yours.”

_His_. Will’s body warms at the thought, and he grins when he says, “I’ll call him Winston.”

Hannibal looks offended for a moment, though his face softens when Will bursts into laughter at his reaction.

“Wow, the look on your face,” Will says, chortling.

The other spirit doesn’t deign his teasing with an answer, though the smile remains on his face. “You may call him that, if you wish, though I can’t promise he would answer to it.”

Boldly, Will steps closer to the nightmare, the stag-like creature looking at him in a questioning manner at his approach. “You like your name, don’t you, Winston?” Will asks, throwing a smirk at Hannibal before he reaches his hand out to pet the creature. It takes a few seconds before the creature deigns itself to be touched, but when it does, it leans into Will’s touch greedily. In no time at all, Winston practically melts under Will’s hands, fully receptive to the affection bestowed on him.

Beside him, Will sees the way Hannibal shivers from his peripheral vision, and he glances at Hannibal with a raised brow. “You okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Hannibal says primly, the perfect picture of poise once more.

“Right,” Will says, unconvinced, his hand still petting Winston’s form. It’s a weird sensation to get used to – it feels as if the creature is made of shadow and air, its strange form vibrating just beneath Will’s fingertips as his hand brushes over the shadowy figure.

Hannibal watches the way Will’s hands move over Winston, silent and pleased. “Would you like to follow me tonight?”

“Uh, where exactly are you going?” Will asks, eyebrows raised. Winston nudges his head against Will’s hands insistently when he had stopped his pettings, and Will obliges with a smile.

“To a nearby town, if you’d like to see my nightmares in action,” Hannibal says, grinning at Will’s piqued curiosity.

Will stares at Hannibal for several seconds, the staff in his hand loose and relaxed in his hold as he steps away from Winston. Aside from trying to rouse Will’s curiosity, Hannibal seems oddly sincere with his offer of friendship, and Will feels that sense of yearning he’s felt for so long tugging at him again.

“Sure, why not,” he says eventually, giving Hannibal a tentative smile.

The tension seems to melt from Hannibal at Will’s acquiescence, and it reminds Will of the sting of rejection he had felt when Zeller brushed off his overtures of friendship so many moons ago.

He savors the palpable pleasure Hannibal radiates, the feeling so similar to his own at receiving reciprocation and being seen by a kindred spirit.

“We’ll let Winston choose the spot,” Hannibal decides. He extends a hand out to Will, baring his teeth in a beatific smile. “Shall we?”

His hand trembles hesitantly for a second, but Will steels himself and reaches out to Hannibal. When their hands finally touch, he sees Hannibal’s eyes glinting with something unnamable before he’s pulled into the darkness.


	2. reciprocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the newly added tags! (Why yes, I did start writing the AU because of the possibility of tentacles in this 'verse, why do you ask?)
> 
> Once again thank you to my lovely beta, [Kai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_99/pseuds/Kai_99) for all your help. Sometimes I can't believe I had someone beta my smut, but here we are XD

When Will had given in to his desire for companionship, he told himself to have no expectations, because expectations could breed resentment as he had come to learn over the last few centuries.

It was for this reason that he had tampered his excitement at the thought of having a friend at last, after three hundred years of solitude, though “friend” might not be the most appropriate word to describe the relationship he currently has with Hannibal.

The other spirit is a great company, which surprised Will at first. The whisperings he had heard from other spirits had led him to believe that the Nightmare King was a vengeful spirit, wreaking havoc on children’s dreams. It’s clear to Will that there was definitely no love lost between Hannibal and the other Guardians.

What he _did_ find out during the last month of their acquaintance was that Hannibal is… capricious, to say the least. His mood is ever-changing, his amusement and interest piqued and dropped easily. Inexplicably, Hannibal seems to be rather fond of the children, though his fondness for his nightmares would probably override the love he has for the children of the world if it comes to it.

Ever since Will has joined Hannibal for his nighttime excursions through the children’s dreams, he finds himself at no loss for entertainment. While he didn’t think his life had been boring previously, he quickly finds that it had been sorely lacking, now that he has Hannibal at his side. It’s dizzying to realize that he has known Hannibal for only a month now, the time passing by in a blink of an eye for a 300-years-old guardian spirit.

Will has come to appreciate the beauty of Hannibal’s nightmares, the shape of it always so different for every child. Hannibal uses his ability and penchant for manipulations to shape his nightmares around the children’s worst fears, transforming the Sandman’s dreams into nightmares at his whim. There’s no pattern as to which children he would terrorize in one night. Most of the time, Hannibal’s nightmare creatures are doing his work for him.

Though he feels no compulsion to join Hannibal in his favorite pastime, he follows the spirit every once in a while, whenever he feels like it. Thus far, Hannibal had never forced him to join in his activities, content to let Will call for him through Winston when he had a need to.

Their friendship brings Will some measure of happiness, though it didn’t come without some kind of pushback from the Guardians when they eventually discovered that Hannibal and Will had found each other. Jack, of course, had been the angriest out of the rest of the Guardians, though Will couldn’t really blame him. He didn’t appreciate being ganged-up on for a second time, however, and he had shown his displeasure to the Guardians by destroying part of Jack’s observatory with his icicles before he left them in a fit of annoyance.

“The nerve of them,” Will complains to Hannibal later, days after the incident with the Guardians. “They’re still telling me I have to help them because the Moon said so. Like I’m just supposed to take their words for it. The Moon didn’t say anything to _me_ , but sure, go ahead and talk to these Guardians who looked at me as if I’m just a lowly spirit to them.”

Hannibal hums in understanding, watching Will float back and forth across the lake where Will had first met Winston. It had become their favorite spot to meet, their neutral ground, and Will can admit that he’s rather fond of the place now. Winston has melted back into the shadows once Hannibal appeared at the lake, giving the two of them the whole area to themselves.

“They are being rather rude,” Hannibal agrees. “And presumptuous.”

Will snorts. “That’s an understatement. Jack was yelling at me to ‘renounce’ you and help them fight against your nightmares. Afraid it’d upset the children.”

“It does upset them,” Hannibal says with a measure of satisfaction.

Will laughs then, amused at Hannibal’s obvious happiness.

Hannibal tilts his head, giving Will a small smile. “I’m happy to hear that you’ve defended me, at the risk of offending the all-mighty Guardians.”

There’s the strange sensation of his cheeks warming over at those words, something that often happens with Hannibal from what he’s noticed, and often beyond his control. The action stings his face for a few seconds before the fine dusting of frost resettles into his skin once more. While he’s not used to it, he’s not exactly averse to the feeling, the novelty of it giving him a rush of excitement.

“I wouldn’t say I was defending you, exactly,” Will mutters, unable to meet Hannibal’s eyes. He flies off again onto the surface of the lake, making a lazy figure-eight loop idly around Hannibal, a small flurry of snowflakes dancing on the surface where his feet glance off of it.

“No? But you did refuse to aid them to fight against me?”

“Yes, but that’s not exactly the same thing as defending you,” Will argues, rolling his eyes even though Hannibal won’t see it.

“I would say it’s a step in that direction,” Hannibal says nonchalantly. “Other spirits would jump at the chance of being able to have a fight against me, knowing they’ll have the other Guardians’ support and acceptance.”

Will ponders that, wondering why exactly did he not jump at the chance of having the Guardians’ acceptance. He had been seeking companionship for so long that he would’ve jumped at the first chance he got to be part of the group. Except then he had gotten his interest piqued by the mention of the Nightmare King.

“Do you object to my nightmares, Will?” Hannibal asks after several minutes.

Stopping his loop, he perches on his staff and watches Hannibal for several seconds. “No, I don’t,” he replies evenly. “But neither do I condone it, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“Perceptive as ever,” Hannibal says with a toothy smile.

Will shrugs. “It’s part of you. You’re the Nightmare King for a reason. I suppose the Moon thought the children needed to have the bad along with the good, which makes sense if _you_ don’t keep tilting the bad in its favor. No telling really why the Moon revived me, though.”

“Hmm, yes. Though I think the Man in the Moon definitely had a specific reason when it decided to bring you to life.” Hannibal continues, his face taking on a darker shade. “I was not always the Nightmare King, however. Though the Man in the Moon did have a hand in making me into who I am today.”

The shock renders Will speechless for several seconds as he listens to Hannibal, and he searches Hannibal’s expression to confirm that the other spirit is telling the truth. Though the mention of Hannibal’s past has piqued his interest, his concern only lies with one thing at the moment.

“Wait,” Will says, floating down from his perch on the staff to come closer to Hannibal, his brows furrowed. “You mean… you remembered your past?”

The way Hannibal slowly blinks at him indicates his surprise. “Do you not remember who you were, Will?”

The soft question draws the breath out of him like a punch to the stomach. “I don’t,” he gasps out. “H-how did you?”

Hannibal’s expression turns curious. “All of the spirits have come into being because the Moon wills it, except for a select few. Most of them have not experienced death before. However, as I understand it, the Moon brought you back to life after you died; a rare exception.”

“Is that why no one’s approached me before this?” Will murmurs, stunned, brows furrowed as he takes in the information. “You’re telling me that you _weren’t_ human before this?”

Hannibal stares at him with preternatural calm. “No, I was not.”

“But… is there a way for me to gain my memories then? Of when I was a human?” Will insists, his voice taking on a desperate tone.

Hannibal is silent for a while, watching Will without blinking. “There’s a vault of memories,” he says eventually, “of all humans’ previous life, protected by the Guardian of Memories. From what I’ve gathered, these Archives store a portion of the memories from every human’s life; or rather, an imprint of it.”

His head is spinning with some sort of vertigo, and he feels a flicker of hope at the revelation. “You… can you tell me how I can get them from the Archives?”

Hannibal looks hesitant for a few seconds. “I could, but you must tell me why you want to know.”

“Are you kidding me?” Will huffs, stepping back. “It’s been driving me crazy not to know _why_ I am the way I am.”

“Will,” Hannibal says, his voice firm and kind. “You do not need to know your past to know who you are now. The essence of who you were in your past life is instilled inside you, and you should have no need of your past memories. They could only serve to remind you of the loss you’ve suffered. There is no gain in looking back on your past – all you have is what is coming for you.”

Will deflates from Hannibal’s words, disappointment flooding into him. The corner of his eyes is stinging, and he only realizes that it’s his tears when Hannibal’s fingertips brush lightly over it, the action making him numb and almost frozen with sudden nervousness. Turning away, he tries to gather his thoughts together, tries to give words to his desperation.

“I just... my past was the only thing I was thinking of for the last few centuries,” Will says, frustrated. “It must be why the Moon resurrected me – there _must_ be an explanation of why he chose me. It’s a part of me, why shouldn’t I have it?”

“What good would it do to know your past?” Hannibal asks, genuinely curious. “How would it serve you, the you who is here now? Would you be happy to go back to how things were? Would you shun me then, and run off with the Guardians once you have regained your memories?”

“I don’t know what I’d do,” Will admits. “But it’s better to know than to be left wondering, isn’t it?”

Hannibal lets out a small sigh, brow creased. He settles a hand on Will’s shoulder, an offer of comfort. “I only advise you against it because I’m worried it could affect you adversely as it’s never been attempted before. I can understand why you’d be curious. But I hope you know this, Will: you do not need any of your past memories to affirm you as to who you are.”

Will looks up and gives Hannibal a small smile, feeling slightly mollified. “Thanks,” he says with a huff of laughter. “Never would’ve thought I would receive life advice from the Nightmare King. You’re a great friend, Hannibal.”

The grip on Will’s shoulder tightens suddenly, Hannibal’s eyes growing darker. “Are we friends, then?”

Will gives a nonchalant shrug, noting how Hannibal doesn’t loosen his hold. “I mean… aren’t we? What else would you call this?”

Hannibal stays silent, though his eyes are dark and calculating as he stares at Will. After a few more seconds of burgeoning tension, Hannibal tightens his grip on Will’s shoulder once again, and then he does something Will completely does not expect.

Hannibal leans in and touches his lips to Will’s, Will’s body going rigid at the contact.

The touch only lasts for several seconds before Will regains his senses and jerks his body away, the movement sending him several paces away from Hannibal. Will stares in disbelief at the other spirit for several seconds as he gathers his thoughts.

“What are you doing?” Will asks, eyes narrowed in confusion at the way his heart is fluttering in his chest. He tightens his grip on the staff in his hand, trying to focus on the feel of the grains of wood beneath his fingertips in an effort to dispel the tumultuous energy he’s feeling.

Hannibal only stares at him, his expression unreadable though Will can sense the dark shadows slithering beneath the surface. “What I have wanted to do for a while,” Hannibal admits softly.

“I… I have to go,” Will says weakly, not daring to say more in fear of saying the wrong thing in his jumbled state. With an apologetic glance at Hannibal, he uses his staff to propel himself into the sky without another word, ignoring the hurt that crosses Hannibal’s face as Will takes off into the night.

Will flies from one snowy landscape to another, uncaring at how time passes as he ruminates over what has happened. With no specific destination in mind, he lets the wind carry him away wherever it might lead him while he lets his thoughts wander.

Two things kept his mind occupied as he circles around the Arctic Circle: the subject of his past memories, and what happened between him and Hannibal.

When he’s not thinking of ways to retrieve his memories, he’s tormented by the thought of Hannibal’s lips against his, his stomach twisting in knots whenever he recalls the moment. It’s for this reason that he decides to avoid Hannibal for a while, unsure of how to face the other spirit should they meet again. It seems that Hannibal is accepting of Will’s wish for a wide berth – he is curiously silent for the next few days as Will hops around the continents.

Tormented as he is by thoughts of his past life, he can also admit that thoughts of Hannibal are at the forefront of his mind as the day passes by. They have only started to enjoy each other’s company for a month or so, but to be so alone after discovering what companionship feels like is oddly unsettling. He’s beginning to admit to himself that he misses Hannibal when Winston finds him somewhere in Greenland.

Winston’s sudden appearance puts him in a more light-hearted mood when the creature nudges Will for his usual petting, and before long Will finds himself laughing while the two of them soar through the night skies. Feeling playful, Will begins a game of hide-and-seek, flitting through the icebergs floating around them while Winston chases after him. This lasts for an hour or so, their amusement finally dying down when Will’s dour mood has been completely lifted.

Will laughs when they land on one of the icebergs, Winston immediately sidling up to him for an affectionate nuzzle. “Hey Winston, I missed you. Guess you miss me too, huh?” he laughs as he pets Winston, grinning when he huffs in return. Will puts his forehead to Winston’s, smiling with a small sigh. “Don’t tell Hannibal, but I sort of miss him too.”

They spend some time out there in the cold wintry night, sitting on the iceberg as it slowly drifts in the vast sea with no other soul present except for the two of them. It’s galling to realize that his mind only settled down when Winston had appeared, presumably to soothe the rift that had suddenly grown between Will and Hannibal.

“Looks like we’ll never be rid of each other, huh?” Will whispers to Winston.

Winston looks as if he knows that Will is not talking about the two of them.

The following night, Will finally swallows his trepidation and decides to seek Hannibal out instead of asking for the other spirit to come to him, as was their routine.

Winston guides him through the forest that leads him to the cavern that Hannibal resides in. The moment Will steps inside the entrance to the cavern, he can feel the shadows darkening around him, welcoming him into the space. As he reaches the bottom of the cavern where he had first met Hannibal, he feels oddly nervous, not knowing if Hannibal will be as welcoming as his shadows indicate.

“Hannibal,” he calls out as his eyes adjust to the darkness of the cave.

There’s an unnatural silence that greets him after he calls out Hannibal’s name, no echo to be heard. When his skin prickles with a sudden intensity, he knows that Hannibal is here.

“Will.”

Will turns his head and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Hannibal a few steps away from him, the other spirit’s features partly hidden in the darkness.

“You came,” Hannibal says, giving Will a small smile.

“I came,” Will agrees with a tentative smile of his own. “Thanks for, uh, not throwing me out of here.”

“You’ve done nothing to deserve that,” Hannibal says, lips curling into a genuine smile. “I’d like to apologize if I’ve crossed any boundaries, however.”

Will swallows, his face warming up at the straightforward way Hannibal brings up the subject. Shaking his head, he only manages to mutter “No apologies necessary” before Hannibal speaks again.

“I have something for you, if you’d still like it.” Hannibal extends a hand from the depths of his shadows, the glow from the object in his hand illuminating the cavern.

Will’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the cylinder in Hannibal’s hand; it glows in the darkness, and though Will has never seen anything like it before, he knows with certainty that the golden, swirling mass in the tube is his long-lost memories. It feels like it’s calling to him, somehow. The hand that’s not holding his staff jerks at his side, the aborted movement drawing Hannibal’s eyes to Will’s.

“Where— no, how did you get it?” Will breathes out, not daring to move.

The glow from the object only serves to highlight Hannibal’s toothy grin, the expression oddly endearing. “Never ask. Spoils the surprise.”

Will huffs out a reluctant laugh, shaking his head, his eyes still locked onto the prize in Hannibal’s hand. “What… what’s in it for you?”

Looking surprised at Will’s question, Hannibal quirks his brow. “Whatever could you mean?”

“I mean,” Will says, licking his lips. “What are you going to receive in return for this… favor?”

“Is it not enough that I care for you, as a friend, and offer this to you in light of that friendship?” Hannibal asks.

The emphasis on the word friend makes Will flinch in nervousness. Though Will knows that Hannibal can be underhanded at times, he also knows that Hannibal is not one for lying for as long as he has known the other spirit. Eventually, he takes a few steps to close the distance between them as Hannibal watches him silently.

Will wraps his hand around Hannibal’s extended hand, the touch shocking them both from the way Hannibal’s shadows react around him, shrinking into Hannibal before unfurling again. Slowly, Will pushes the tube away from him, pushes it until it touches Hannibal’s chest.

“Will you… keep it for me?” Will whispers, averting his eyes from the cylinder and focusing it on Hannibal’s hand instead. “Until I’m ready to see it?”

He can feel the way Hannibal’s gaze burns into him, the air around them charged with the tension and the close proximity. Still, he avoids Hannibal’s eyes, at least until the shadows wrap itself around the glowing cylinder and they are engulfed in darkness.

With both of them shrouded in darkness once more, Will’s other senses are heightened, and he realizes that he’s still holding Hannibal’s hand in his, though the cylinder is now gone.

Tremulously, Will pulls his hand away, noting Hannibal’s reluctance in letting go. Running on an impulse, he surprises even himself when his hand grips Hannibal’s dark suit and he yanks Hannibal towards him for a kiss.

Hannibal lets out a shocked noise when their faces inevitably crash into one another, their teeth clacking almost painfully when the kiss doesn’t quite go as planned. Will is about to pull away, embarrassed, when the shadows wrap itself around him and pull him closer to Hannibal. The protest dies in his throat when Hannibal parts his lips for a kiss, and soon all of his words die out altogether as the kiss deepens in intensity.

Will has never felt anything quite like this; it feels as if he’s drowning, submerged once more under the frozen lake he had risen out of. The slide of their lips shouldn’t feel so good, and yet there’s something stirring within him at the touch. Hannibal’s lips are soft against his; it’s a surprising sensation, as it’s something that Will has never imagined about before, but he can’t deny that it’s a pleasing touch. Will gives a soft moan of surprise when Hannibal’s tongue slips into his mouth; yet another thing he’s never even thought about, but the pleasure only grows within him.

Hannibal pulls away eventually, his eyes glinting with mischievousness at the state Will is in. “Are you alright, Will?”

Will is not sure what he looks like right now. He’s only aware of his own heavy breathing, feels the way his chest heaves. Though he doesn’t have to actually breathe, being an immortal spirit, the action seems to be ingrained in him, a habit borne from his past life and never quite able to be forgotten. Even through his daze, Will notes how Hannibal doesn’t seem to be affected at all.

“I’m fine,” Will replies, looking away. A glare would probably prove ineffectual on Hannibal, so he doesn’t even bother. “Just… didn’t expect that.”

He feels like he’s said something he shouldn’t have, with how Hannibal’s expression grows intrigued. Sure enough, the shadows which were caging him tighten around him, and he _refuses_ to admit that he lets out a squeak of surprise at the sudden action.

Will forgets about his embarrassment when Hannibal’s hand caresses his cheek in a slow, wondering movement.

“Oh, dear boy,” Hannibal purrs, watching the way Will trembles at the touch. “Have you not been touched for so long?”

Will shakes his head, trying to dispel the sudden fog of arousal that descends on him when Hannibal’s shadows begin to caress him. “No one knew I existed, remember?” he manages to bite out, though his words die off with a gasp when he feels a creeping sensation on his bare skin, the shadows creeping under his clothes. “What are you doing?”

“You are touch-starved, aren’t you,” Hannibal whispers, sounding delighted at the discovery. “Would you like to know how you can achieve pleasure in this body?”

“If I say no,” Will murmurs through another gasp, “would you stop?”

“Would you like me to stop?”

Will whimpers at the press of Hannibal’s lips against his throat, and the way the shadows are caressing his body with light, teasing touches.

He doesn’t tell Hannibal to stop.

Will is overwhelmed immediately. He barely realizes when his staff rolled out of his hand or when Hannibal had managed to undress him; all he can focus on is the way the shadows flood him with so many sensations while Hannibal watches him in apparent fascination as his shadows carry out his work for him.

Will finds himself suspended in the middle of the cavern, his body restrained and spread open by the threads of shadows wound around his wrists and his ankles. His bare body is exposed to the cool air of the cavern, though the shivers he’s experiencing are not because of the cold. He’s thankful for the relative darkness of the cavern, though he knows that Hannibal’s eyesight is not likely to be compromised, accustomed as he is to the darkness.

He’s been given no reprieve ever since Hannibal has restrained him. Hannibal has taken his silence as compliance, and the shadows sweep all over Will’s form, exploring his skin like it’s been compelled to. Hannibal seems content to watch from several paces away, eyes dark with unrestrained desire as he manipulates his shadows to do his bidding.

Will writhes in the restraints when the tendrils start to coil itself around his erection, his eyes opening in surprise at the realization that he’s hard. Never having touched himself, he wonders how he has never experienced this heightened feeling before, the touches maddening. He craves it now, the tendrils rubbing against him making him rut uselessly against it, trying to chase for friction and feeling frustrated when the shadows don't oblige.

“So impatient,” Hannibal comments from the side, sounding smug. “Let me enjoy this for a little while, Will.”

Will huffs, both from frustration and pleasure. “You getting off on this just from watching me?”

“Oh, I intend to participate sooner or later,” Hannibal says with a wicked grin. “But for now, I’m content to feel what my shadows are doing to you. Did you know that I can feel every single touch? The shadows are a part of me, if you recall.”

Will manages a laugh, though it turns into a groan when the shadows give a particular tug on his leaking cock, and a few tendrils rubbing his nipples to hardness.

“Your pleasure tastes exquisite,” Hannibal murmurs.

Typically he would try to find a suitably scathing reply to that, but Will can no longer form coherent sentences when a few of the tendrils begin to nudge insistently at his entrance, and Will’s eyes widen in surprise at the action.

“Have you never done this before, Will?” Hannibal asks again, his voice low and quiet, simmering with tension as he watches the way Will shakes in anticipation.

Will shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he huffs out. “Even if I have, I can’t remember anything, can I?”

Hannibal’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Would you like to remember before we continue, then?”

“Oh, don’t you dare— _ah_ ,” Will gasps, his words cut off as the tendrils breach him. It’s a different sort of sensation, and Will thinks he _can’t_ have done this before, the intrusion in his body so foreign and awkward. His grip tightens as the shadows lift his legs up, Hannibal looking rapturous as he manipulates Will’s body for his viewing pleasure.

Groaning, he shuts his eyes and lets himself feel instead. The alien feeling of having something inside him slowly begins to lessen, the slow, intense burn softening into a bearable touch. Will is beginning to get used to it before another tendril slips alongside the other, the stretch making him squirm and gasp in place as he fights uselessly against the restraints.

“Hannibal—” he chokes off, letting his chin drop down to his body. “Please—”

He’s not quite sure what he’s asking for, only that his whole body feels like it’s burning with a low-grade fever. There’s no fighting against the shadows restraining him and playing with him, and Will is not even sure if he wants Hannibal to stop.

Will’s shocked cry fills the cavern as the tendrils of shadows curl itself inside, pressing insistently against a spot inside him. His cry turns into ones of pleasure before long when the tendrils start to thrust in and out of him with sudden vigor, aiming its thrusts to the spot that makes Will’s breath hitch.

The rest of his body is covered with the swirling mass of tendrils now, each of them adding onto the onslaught of sensations on his body. The ones around his nipples are pinching them softly, while the ones on his cock are stroking him at a maddening pace, the contrast between the lazy strokes and the powerful thrusts driving Will to madness.

Will opens his eyes when he senses his audience drawing closer to him, Hannibal finally joining in the fray with a fond and heated gaze. Hannibal places himself in front of Will, taking care to place himself at eye-level as he watches the way Will’s face contorts in ecstasy.

“Are you having fun, Will?” Hannibal coos, reaching out his hand to guide Will’s face towards him.

With the way his body is handled by Hannibal’s shadows, Will can’t quite form a coherent reply, dazed and desperate for relief, his cock aching and dripping with clear white fluid as the shadows keep on with its onslaught on his body. He can only gasp out Hannibal’s name, a plea to the other spirit.

“You look beautiful, Will,” Hannibal whispers close to Will’s ear, biting down on Will’s throat to draw out a moan from the younger spirit. “Did you know that the frost in your hair has melted away? You have such lovely brown curls.”

Will whimpers when Hannibal’s fingers stretch him wider, making way for more of his shadows to fill Will further while the existing ones thrust inside him mercilessly. For several breathless minutes, Will is only aware of several things: the tears at the corner of his eyes, the melted frost and sweat dripping off his body to the floor of the cavern beneath them, and Hannibal himself remaining damnably composed throughout his ministrations.

“Hannibal,” Will whines when everything begins to feel too much. “I need— please, touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, dear boy,” Hannibal purrs, voice low and dark, his fingers teasing at Will’s rim.

“More, please, you— touch me more,” Will whispers frantically, trying to reach out to Hannibal with his hands, growling in frustration when they remain fastened away by the shadows. “I need _you_ —”

Hannibal growls and kisses Will then, and he finally slips his fingers inside with an insistent press to the spot that has Will seeing stars.

Will comes with a muffled cry, Hannibal seemingly determined to swallow every sound from him as he continues to press against the bundle of nerves inside Will.

Will twitches in overstimulation for several moments, and it’s only when Hannibal finally removes his fingers that he finds his hands and ankles slowly released from the shadows binding him. Still trembling, Will falls onto Hannibal, the other spirit catching his lax and limp body.

The shadows slowly slink away from Will as Hannibal replaces them with his hands, soothing Will as he comes down from his orgasm with whimpering exhales. By the time Will is more aware of his surroundings, he is nestled within Hannibal’s embrace, both of them seated on the floor of the cavern. He has stopped trembling from the aftershocks of his release, and he feels the fine layer of frost slowly creeping back onto his skin once his body is no longer exerting itself.

Will closes his eyes, dazed and oddly sleepy. Though he doesn’t need to sleep, their activity has left him shattered in its wake, and he feels the need to rest creeping up on him. He lets out a contented sigh when Hannibal’s shadows slither over him to cocoon him with Hannibal in a tight embrace.

He’s at the edge of sleep when he hears Hannibal’s soft murmur against his curls, the color of his hair returned to white once more as the frost envelops him again.

“Are you alright?”

Will hums, turning his head slightly to place a soft kiss against Hannibal’s neck, burrowing his face at the crook of it. “Yes. Stay with me.”

“Of course.” Though Will can’t see Hannibal’s face, he hears the fondness laced in Hannibal’s voice, and it makes him smile.

The way Hannibal soothes and pets him is making him even drowsier, though he forces himself to speak through it. “I thought you would participate much sooner than that.”

The rumble of Hannibal’s soft laughter vibrates against Will, and Hannibal lifts Will’s chin up in order for them to see each other better.

“My dear sweet Will,” Hannibal purrs, grinning with his teeth bared. “Did you think that was it?”

Will’s mouth goes dry even as Hannibal continues.

“No, my love,” Hannibal purrs as he gives Will a chaste kiss. “We’re just getting started.”

With those words, Hannibal engulfs them both into total darkness before whisking Will away, deeper and deeper into his underground lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though the work is marked as completed, I've kinda outlined some plot stuff for an eventual chapter 3, so we'll see where that takes us... ~~Ok fine, I just want some more tentacle actions okay, sue me~~


	3. revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally dives into his past.

Will burns with the memories of the nights he spent with Hannibal for the next few days. After Hannibal had shown him just how pleasurable their companionship could be, they didn’t leave the Nightmare King’s cave for three days, at least as far as Will could tell. Will was sequestered away inside one of the many chambers in Hannibal’s dwelling. Hannibal never strays far away as the shadows alert him to Will’s every move. It would be creepy if it wasn’t so endearing to have someone like Hannibal watching over him in his resting hours.

The cave turns out to be a massive underground palace. The tunnels Will previously encountered lead to different parts of the cave networks, though Will still doesn’t quite know what Hannibal needs a palace for. He senses there’s more to the story than what Hannibal had been willing to tell him so far, but he doesn’t push the other spirit for now.

No, Will was too busy being overwhelmed by all the different ways Hannibal could take him apart in the past three days. Inexperienced as he was, Will had let Hannibal take the lead, and Hannibal had taken up the challenge with unbridled enthusiasm. Will had gone from a virtually untouched creature to an enthusiastic participant in their activities together, though Hannibal still has the upper hand when it comes to more “creative” ways to enjoy their coupling.

Even now, Will still blushes at the thought of just how often Hannibal had reduced him to an incoherent, whimpering mess in such different ways during the last few nights. As immortal spirits with relentless stamina, it’s a wonder that Hannibal had found it in him to stop at all. It seems that Hannibal has finally managed to slake his lust and desire with Will at the end of the third night they spent together, and it’s only then that he settled himself against Will, enveloping Will in a protective cocoon.

Will finds it comforting to be surrounded by Hannibal in all manners of speaking, though he is also amused at the somewhat overbearing manner of Hannibal’s protection. He says as much, hours later when they’ve both regained their senses.

“Are you worried I’d just run off without telling you if you don’t keep me here with your shadows?” he murmurs into the darkness, feeling the way the shadows vibrate against him.

Hannibal is plastered against Will’s back, his arms wrapped possessively around Will’s waist. Will wonders idly where his staff was, forgotten once Hannibal had gotten his hands on Will.

Hannibal kisses Will’s nape, his hands tightening around Will. “I admit I’ve had such thoughts.”

Will snorts. “You’ve taken such great care to confuse my senses when you brought me to your chambers. Don’t you think that’s deterrent enough?”

“I don’t doubt that you would eventually find your way out, with your remarkable cleverness,” Hannibal says against his skin. “I rather like the thought of keeping you down here for a few years, at least.”

“I’d go stir crazy,” Will laughs. Though he shivers pleasantly at the thought, there’s also a hint of a threat in those words.

Hannibal seems to sense his disquiet and kisses Will’s nape again in a conciliatory gesture. “Never fear, dear boy. I wouldn’t keep you here against your will.”

Relaxing at the promise, Will sags against Hannibal, pressing himself closer to the other spirit. Will thinks back to the last few weeks, of how his relationship with Hannibal had developed and eventually ended up here. It’s unfathomable to him even now, how quickly he had fallen down this rabbit hole. They were both a different kind of lone spirit, wandering around until they inevitably found one another.

Really, he should thank the Guardians for bringing them together. The thought brings a small smile to Will’s face, one which Hannibal seems to pick up on from the way he shifts against Will.

“What has you so amused?”

“Just… thinking about everything that’s happened,” Will evades, still smiling.

“Were you thinking of it as a cosmic joke?”

“More like something inevitable, I guess. It was just funny to think of how we had come to know of one another.”

“Ah. I see the humor now. We must send our thanks to Jack, then.”

“I don’t think he’d be pleased,” Will says with a laugh.

They fall silent once more, both of them most likely thinking of the same thing; fate and circumstances beyond their control.

“Would this be a good time to remind you of your memories?” Hannibal asks him after a lengthy silence, soft and tentative.

Will thinks about it before he shakes his head. “Not now, I think.”

“Very well,” Hannibal says, his tone placid. They fall into silence once more, Hannibal’s fingers stroking Will’s waist in an absent-minded manner.

“You know, I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with the dark,” Will murmurs after a few minutes, apropos of nothing.

The way the shadows squirm against Will is telling, though Will doesn’t comment on it and waits until the shadows resettle.

“And what do you think of the dark now?” Hannibal’s voice is barely a whisper, so intimate that Will shivers with it.

“I think… there’s some beauty in what you do,” Will says, voice hoarse when the shadows begin to caress his cheek, his throat, his arms. “The light can’t exist without darkness, and darkness is always lurking somewhere.”

Hannibal and his shadows are practically vibrating around him, and it’s all Will can do to continue, gasping intermittently as he does so.

“You—you operate on your own, but what you do is felt by all,” Will croaks out, moaning when Hannibal’s hand moves to Will’s hip in a sweeping caress. “You use your understanding and your insights to—oh god, don’t stop—to manipulate them, and show them their strongest fears… _Hannibal_ —”

“Much as I love to listen to you talk,” Hannibal purrs, his breath a soft caress, “I think I’d much rather hear you pleasured again.”

“You insatiable narcissist,” Will laughs, though his body betrays his enthusiasm as he rocks insistently against Hannibal.

“You do bring it out in me,” Hannibal whispers, nipping at Will’s throat.

Their words are soon lost to the darkness, higher thoughts leaving Will completely while Hannibal works them both into a frenzy once more.

Will does eventually leave the underground palace the next morning, with a promise to return once he’s had his fill of the human world. He flies around his favorite continents, noting that the winter season is coming to a close soon as he senses the change in the humidity and winds. He starts a few snowball fights where the snow is still falling in abundance, the children turning joyous at the sudden flurry of snow they’re experiencing when Will visits them.

This is his favorite part of his “job” – persuading the children (and the occasional adults) to enjoy the spirit of winter. Will doesn’t even mind now that they wouldn’t know of his existence, about the spirit called “Frost”, not now when he has finally found someone who sees him so thoroughly.

Will meanders for hours, finding entertainment and spreading fun chaos where he could. It’s second nature to him now, and it’s all he’s ever done in his entire existence. It’s fulfilling, in a way, to know that he’s affecting the world in a way, even if it’s ultimately inconsequential. There’s a beauty to that too, knowing that whatever he does, he can’t fuck things up any more than he has already. A different sort of peace has settled Will in the knowledge.

It's when he’s in Finland that he notices someone following him. At first, he assumed it was Winston, but when the Nightmare didn’t come out to greet him, his suspicion and dread heightened at the thought of encountering Jack. It’s probably not the wisest idea to go to a continent that’s close to the North Pole, since that’s where Jack’s base is. Will had always existed on the fringes of the Guardians’ knowledge before this, but now that the Guardians know of him, Will should’ve realized in hindsight that he’s likely to be ambushed when he enters Jack’s territory.

Sighing, Will descends into a playground below – the place empty since the children have returned home for lunch – and perches himself on top of a see-saw.

“Okay, whatever it is you have to say to me, you can tell me now before the snowstorm sets in,” he calls out into the silence, looking around the empty playground before someone steps into his sight.

It’s not who he expected. Will frowns when he sees who it is instead.

“Bev?” Will calls out, eyebrows raised as Bev flies towards him. “Sorry, I thought you were Jack.”

Bev snorts, hovering nearby. “You’d hear Jack coming from miles away. He’s not the most subtle Guardian.”

Will gives her an uncertain smile. “What are you doing here?”

Bev’s gaze is cool and assessing as she stares at him. “Are you and the Nightmare King friends, for lack of a better word?” she says after a lengthy silence.

Sighing, Will rolls his eyes in frustration. “I thought we already went through this when you guys ambushed me the second time at Jack’s observatory. In any case, what does it matter? Hannibal’s not even bothering you guys anymore.”

“That _is_ true,” Bev says, pursing her lips. “I admit I didn’t expect him to stop whatever he was planning. I thought when he’d lured you in—”

“He didn’t lure me in,” Will snaps. “I knew what I was getting into.”

Bev stares at him for a while before sighing and positioning herself on the other end of the see-saw. “Do you really? Do you know what he’s capable of, Will?”

“I know enough,” Will retorts. “He’s mostly kept to the status quo since we’ve become friends, hasn’t he? Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It does, but that doesn’t mean that there’s not more to this. But it’s not my story to tell,” Bev replies. “I’m not here to antagonize you, and I’m not here on Jack’s behalf.”

“Okay, then why are you here? And what do you mean by story? What story?”

Heaving another sigh, Bev seems to come to a decision. “I’m here because he took something from me, and he destroyed a lot of things in his caprice. I don’t think you know what he did, which is why I’m telling you this now so that you know what sort of person the Nightmare King is.”

Will’s stomach dropped at the insinuation, his mind going over the last few weeks to trace Hannibal’s movement. The only thing he can recall is his short estrangement from Hannibal and—

“You’re the Guardian of Memories,” Will says softly, several things clicking into place.

“Yes,” Bev huffs. “I figured you didn’t know. But Hannibal does. He trapped my faeries in a cage so they couldn’t alert me of the intrusion. By the time I realized what happened, over a third of the Archives’ storage was ransacked. When I saw that your record was gone, I knew it had to be him.”

“I’m sorry about your faeries,” Will says, genuinely contrite. “Are they alright?”

“They’re fine,” Bev says, “if a little traumatized from being shaken up by the shadows; it’s been a while since we’ve had to deal with Hannibal directly. What is _not_ alright is him breaking into my palace and stealing my records! He fudged up over a _third of my Archives!_ Do you know how long it took for us to put everything back in its place?”

Will sighs. “Look, for what it’s worth, I didn’t ask him to do it. I just… I didn’t know that _you_ were the Guardian of Memories, or I would’ve asked you instead.” _Maybe._

Bev rolls her eyes. “Well, if you’d bother to ask any of us or give me some of your time, you would’ve had that record right when we first met. What would you need it for, anyway?”

Will snorts. “That first meeting didn’t exactly go so well, remember? And… I don’t remember anything about my past,” Will says. “I thought having the memory would help.”

“Oh.” Bev’s glare softens. “I didn’t know that. I thought… well, we still have our memories. I thought it’d be the same for you.”

Will shrugs, looking away. “Yeah, well. I have it now. But I haven’t opened it yet.”

Bev’s look is knowing, though she chooses not to comment on it. “Well. Since it’s technically your memories, it’s your right to keep it. Just use it wisely, okay?”

“Why are the two of you telling me the same thing?” Will groans.

“Because it’s a fair warning. Sometimes, I think it’s easier if we were all reborn with a clean slate,” Bev says, her expression turning tight. “It’s your memories, Will. I won’t tell you what to do with them. Just be careful.”

Will stares at Bev, wondering just what sort of pasts the other Guardians had. He’s never thought about it before, but there’s something in Bev’s expression that stops him from asking more.

“Thank you,” he says instead. “Sorry about the Archives and your faeries.”

“I’ll consider it even when the Nightmare King himself apologizes to me,” Bev says wryly, crossing her arms as she prepares to fly away. “Take care, Will. And I’ve said this before: It’s not my story to tell, but you should probably ask Hannibal about his past. Your choice.”

Bev flies away before Will could think to ask more. Though he’s frustrated, it’s probably for the best; Will thinks he might need to hear the answers from Hannibal himself.

When Will returns to Hannibal’s underground palace much later, the shadows welcome him into their fold as they always do. Hannibal is probably aware when Will enters the palace, and the shadows beckon him deeper inside the underground tunnels, leading him into Hannibal’s chambers.

Will looks around the sparse area, and he recalls wondering why Hannibal has such a vast palace for a spirit who leads such a solitary existence. He supposes it’s time for him to find out, or at least seek an answer for it.

It takes a while for Hannibal to join him, and when he does, Will feels it in the way the air shifts to accommodate him, the shadows shrinking into place before Hannibal pulls Will into an embrace. Laughing a little, Will returns it, squeezing Hannibal before he pulls away.

“Had another nice night terrorizing the children?” Will teases.

“It was a slow night,” Hannibal replies, eyes shining with glee. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” Hannibal agrees, winding an arm around Will’s waist to pull him into a soft kiss.

Will sighs into it, his eyes closing in contentment at the slide of their lips. It’s strange how enjoyable it is, and Will didn’t know he could miss it until he finally knows what he’s been missing. They’ve only been apart for hours – not even a day – and yet Will feels Hannibal’s absence keenly.

The kiss turns heated when Hannibal’s hands wander down to tug at Will’s pants. Will barely gets the chance to protest before he feels himself being laid down on Hannibal’s bed. Will’s thoughts about his encounter with Bev leaves his head completely when Hannibal has him naked and writhing in need within seconds.

“How are you still like this?” Will asks in between puffs of laughter. “I’ve been gone for less than a day!”

“I suppose this is our honeymoon period, as the humans would say,” Hannibal replies shamelessly, his fingers already prying Will open. “I intend to enjoy it as much as I can.”

And well, Will can’t say no to that, not when his body reacts so positively to Hannibal’s coaxing hands. Will brings his arms over his closed eyes, panting with breaths he doesn’t need as Hannibal touches him ceaselessly, Will quickly becoming addicted to it.

Will startles when the shadows pry his arms away, curling around his wrists to tie his hands above his head instead.

“Darling boy,” Hannibal murmurs, leaning in to give Will a peck on his lips. “Would you deny me the chance to see how beautiful you are in your pleasure?”

Will shakes his head wordlessly, groaning when Hannibal finally enters him in a single thrust, his body parting willingly. “I wouldn’t dare,” Will says breathlessly. The shock of finding himself full is quickly being replaced with pleasure as Hannibal starts to move inside him.

Closing his eyes, Will lets Hannibal take control and moans Hannibal’s name repeatedly as their bodies rock against one another. As much as Will enjoys Hannibal’s shadows penetrating him, it feels so much more intimate to have Hannibal inside him with their bodies pressed so tightly together.

“Shall we try to test your limits tonight?” Hannibal purrs against Will’s throat.

“You’ve been doing that for the last few days,” Will grits out in between thrusts, his fists clenching around nothing, “there’s still more?”

“There’s always more ways to test you, my dear,” Hannibal murmurs. “You always take me so beautifully.”

Will groans and writhes against his bonds; he wants to touch Hannibal so badly. “Do it,” he gasps out.

The bonds around his hands tighten with gentle pressure, and he finds his hands fastened against the bed more securely, unable to move them. Will is about to protest when he feels the tendrils of Hannibal’s shadows nudging against his lips, coaxing him to accept them inside. The shadows slip into his mouth, pressing gently against his tongue when Will parts his lips for them. It’s an odd sensation, since there’s no taste to the shadows, and the way they vibrate inside him makes him shiver with anticipation.

“Lovely,” Hannibal whispers, pulling back to stare at the way Will moans around the shadows in his mouth. “Your pleasure tastes exquisite, Will.”

Belatedly, Will remembers that Hannibal experiences the sensations brought to him by the shadows, the shadows being a part of him. Will licks at the intrusion in his mouth, savoring the shivers it elicits from Hannibal when he sucks down on them.

Hannibal manages a strangled laugh. “What a wicked creature you are.”

Will raises his eyebrow at that, doing his best to convey a challenging “is that the best you can do?” sentiment, which only seems to amuse Hannibal.

“Even without speaking, you wound me,” Hannibal teases. “But we’re just getting started.”

Anticipation courses through Will once more at the promise, and it doesn’t take too long before he understands what Hannibal intends for him. Hannibal has stilled inside him for the moment, letting Will adjust to the shadows in his mouth. Will’s eyes widen when he feels the several tendrils nudging along his rim before they slide inside him, making space for themselves alongside Hannibal’s girth.

His body is pinned down by the shadows surrounding him as he’s filled with more shadows. He struggles uselessly as the shadows fill and expand inside him, the sensation driving all coherent thoughts out of his mind as it stretches and presses against that sensitive spot inside him.

With his body restrained, Will can only moan around the shadows in his mouth as Hannibal and the shadows begin to move inside him. Hannibal looks pleased at Will’s muffled sounds of pain and pleasure, Will’s body writhing and arching at the quickening pace. If he thought he’d been full before, it’s nothing compared to this – it feels as if his body couldn’t take more until it did, Hannibal experimenting with more shadows until Will screams at how full he is.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal says, his eyes glinting in satisfaction. “Your pain and desire taste the same, Will. I wonder which you prefer.”

Filled with so much unbearable pleasure, Will’s body trembles with the need to come, the shadows pressing insistently at his prostate with every other thrust. He feels impaled in the best ways as Hannibal continues to fill him, the shadows getting thicker and thicker around the walls of Will’s body.

Will tries to impart his desperation by biting and sucking at the shadows in his mouth, and it’s clear Hannibal hears his message loud and clear when Hannibal smiles down at Will.

Hannibal leans in closer to him, licking at the thawing frost from Will’s face as he renews his pace, fucking into Will with so much force that Will’s body would be jarring with it if it weren’t for the shadows restraining him.

“You’re such a lovely creature,” Hannibal whispers next to his ears. “You take all of me so well, Will.”

Will moans and tries to nod, tries to plead for his release, tries to do anything that would bring him relief.

Hannibal only chuckles in response. “You can come just like this, can’t you, darling?”

Will feels the tears falling from the corners of his eyes, his body aching and trembling with the need to come. Hannibal continues his thrusts, licking at Will’s tears and purring in satisfaction as the shadows inside Will grow and expand further, drawing screams out of Will’s throat when he finally comes.

His body convulses with the force of his orgasm and Will moans weakly around the shadows in his mouth. Boneless and pliant, Will whimpers when Hannibal and his shadows finally still inside him. He feels so full, and the shadows are still pulsating against his swollen prostate and making him whine from the overstimulation. The tendrils inside his mouth withdraw slowly before it’s replaced with soft, reverent kisses, Hannibal murmuring soft praises against Will’s swollen lips.

The rest of Hannibal’s shadows pull away slowly, the tendrils caressing and massaging Will’s trembling form until Hannibal pulls Will into an embrace. Will closes his eyes and sighs in relief when the shadows soothe him, Hannibal’s voice whispering reassurances in a language Will doesn’t understand. This continues for some time, and the shadows only disappear once Will’s trembling subsides. Hannibal remains beside him through it all, his gentle murmurs only stopping when Will pulls away slightly to look at him.

Soft fingers reach out to caress Will’s cheek, and Will lets his eyes flutter closed, leaning into the touch.

“Are you alright, Will?” 

Will opens his eyes again, the tentative tone of the question making him smile. “Never better,” he replies.

For a moment, they lay side by side in the darkness. Will doesn’t break his eye contact in the time it takes him to speak again. “Do you ever wonder why we’re here? Why the Moon chose us to look over the children?”

Hannibal clearly doesn’t expect the question. “You believe there’s a higher purpose in what we do?”

“There must be,” Will says, shrugging minutely. “Otherwise I wouldn’t exist.”

There’s a general sense of discontent brewing around them, and Will only recognizes that it’s the shadows emanating the feeling, the coils of darkness growing darker. A misstep, then; one he doesn’t quite understand, but fear is the last thing on his mind.

“Has this come about after the Tooth Fairy paid you a visit?” Hannibal questions, his voice soft.

“Of course you knew about that,” Will sighs. “Do your shadows spy on me the whole day or something?”

When no answer is forthcoming, Will takes the silence as admission and rolls his eyes. “Well, then you’d know that I’m not siding with them on this, don’t you?” Will continues. “Not after what we’ve shared.”

Hannibal softens somewhat at the placating words, though there’s also an unnamed emotion Will can’t quite grasp playing across his face. “I fear you may turn away from me if you knew the whole story.”

Will gives the soft admission his due consideration, wondering what sort of past Hannibal has for him to be so unsure of Will’s reception of it. “Well. Maybe it’d go over easier if I knew my past. So that I can’t judge yours.”

Hannibal nods after a moment of contemplation. “Very well. Quid pro quo – your memories for mine.”

Will barely nods before Hannibal produces the glowing cylinder from thin air, the shadows dropping it into Hannibal’s hand in mere seconds. Hannibal hands the cylinder to him wordlessly, his expression controlled to reveal nothing. Will is not sure who is the most anxious at what they would learn from the memories, but he can’t prolong the wait any longer.

Wrapping his hand around the cylinder, Will lets out a small gasp when the glow gets brighter at the simple touch. He’s too shocked to say anything before he feels himself _pulled_ somehow, his breath catching at the sensation of falling and falling into nothingness until—

_—his feet touch the frozen surface beneath him, the crackling sound loud in his ears as the ground beneath him shatters—_

_—a rush of fear as he turns towards the girl, her face stricken with tears and shock at the situation they’ve found themselves in._

_“Abigail, run,” he insists, the ice cracking further. “Go now, or they’ll catch up to you.”_

_“I can’t leave you,” Abigail sobs, coming to a shaky stand a few feet away from him. At least she’s safe, he thinks. “Please, don’t leave me—”_

_“Abigail, you have to go,” he says harshly, his head turning at the sounds of commotion approaching them. “Run far away, and remember: go meet Ms. Bloom and all will be fine. Now_ go _!”_

_No sooner had the words leave him than the ice beneath him gives way. The last thing he sees and hears is Abigail’s shocked face and wailing cry piercing the night air as he falls into the frozen lake, his body plunging below the surface as he struggles to save his breath._

It’s useless _, he thinks, panicked. He doesn’t know how to swim, he can’t breathe, he’s going to die here all alone, and no one would miss him, no one would know or care—_

Will gasps as he’s wrenched out of the memories, the cylinder clattering loudly against the floor of the caves when it’s forcefully removed from his hand. The vision of his memories cling to him still, and he slowly comes back to the feeling of insistent hands framing his face, the sound of his name echoing as his clarity returns.

“Will, tell me if you’re alright.”

He’s still too shaken to speak, though he does manage a nod, the movement stilted with Hannibal’s hands still holding his cheeks in an attempt to center him. The hands are removed, and Will finds himself leaning into Hannibal’s embrace, his face smushed against Hannibal’s suit. There’s no heartbeat to listen to, but Will closes his eyes to the sound of Hannibal’s soothing words – words which are foreign to him but are nevertheless comforting.

It takes a while for Will’s body to stop trembling, and by the time he calms down, the cylinder is gone and they’re both enveloped in darkness once more. Just as well, since he doesn’t need it anymore, not after what he’s seen.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Will shakes his head and winds his arms around Hannibal’s waist instead, avoiding the other spirit’s gaze. “I need some time,” he whispers, the words muffled against Hannibal’s suit.

“Very well. Rest, Will. There will be no nightmares to touch you here.”

Ironic, coming from the Nightmare King himself. But Will trusts him implicitly, despite the other Guardians’ warning, and he lets his eyes fall closed as the memories consume him once more.

There’s no telling how long they secluded themselves inside Hannibal’s chambers, but when Will is finally ready to talk, Hannibal is still there with him. Though he’s grateful for Hannibal’s presence, he also feels stifled by the darkness, some of the memories of his last moment as a human resurfacing the longer he stays in the dark.

Will tells Hannibal so, and it takes them mere moments to relocate themselves to the frozen lake – their customary spot. It’s still nighttime, with the Moon shining bright above them and the stars adorning the night sky. Will breathes in the tranquility and silence, the noises in his head quieting, the expansive space giving him some room to breathe with his emotions.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Hannibal’s voice is soft, coaxing. He’s standing in the middle of the lake while Will traverses the length of it in a meandering manner.

Sighing, Will stops to hover in front of Hannibal. “My memory for yours?”

The reminder makes Hannibal smile and nod. “If that’s how you’d like it. You can ask me a question and I will answer, and then it shall be my turn.”

Will shrugs. “Sounds good to me.” Thinking for a few seconds, he decides to go for a direct question. “Who or what were you in your past life?”

“I didn’t have a past life,” Hannibal answers with an amused tilt to his lips. “How did you die, Will?”

“Wait – that’s it? You’re not going to tell me more?”

“Quid pro quo, Will. That is the answer – if you’d like a lengthy explanation, I suggest you think of the right question.”

Will huffs, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I died by trying to save someone’s life. Happy?”

Hannibal hums. “I expected as much. You would’ve been resurrected for a noble action.” It’s clear from Hannibal’s tone what he thinks of _that_ particular action.

“Right. Glad that cleared it up for you. My turn, then. Who were you before you became the Nightmare King?”

Hannibal’s grin is full of teeth, pleased and amused at the rephrase. “I was a Guardian once.” He smiles off the surprised look on Will’s face. “It was a long time ago – centuries before you were reborn as a spirit. But in keeping with our game… whose life did you save?”

Will’s mind is still reeling at the thought of Hannibal being a former Guardian that it takes a few seconds for him to catch up with the question. “A girl,” Will admits, sighing. “Abigail.”

Hannibal seems to wait for more, and Will chuckles at the curiosity in his eyes. “Look, if I offer you more details, would you return the favor?” he bargains.

“I wouldn’t be averse to that,” Hannibal says with a tilt of his head.

“Right,” Will sighs. “She was a girl from the village I lived in. We were acquainted for some time even if we never talked much. Her father… was a terrible man who killed girls who looked like her. The villagers caught him eventually and persecuted him for his crimes when they saw the evidence. She asked me for help when they came after her because there was no one else to turn to.”

“And you decided to help her.”

Will shrugs. “It wasn’t a noble decision. I felt like… I knew how it felt to be ostracized from a community. I was the only person who would empathize.”

“The decision ultimately led you to your death.”

“Yes, I noticed, but thanks for the reminder.” Will can’t help his scathing tone, annoyed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Hannibal’s soft tone carries a weight to it, and Will is reminded again that Hannibal has been alone as he was.

“Sorry,” Will says, sighing. “Knee-jerk reaction.”

Hannibal merely hums. “Did you wonder what happened to her? When you first regained your memories?”

“Not really,” Will says, shrugging. “I figured at this point she’d be long dead. No use trying to open another scab.”

“I suppose you’ve learned your lesson,” Hannibal agrees, smiling at Will’s glare.

“And don’t think I forgot about your lie of omission. You could’ve told me that Bev was the Guardian of Memories, you know.”

“It wouldn’t have been as much fun as breaking into her palace. I admit that was my ulterior motive, aside from wanting to retrieve that memory for you.”

Will narrows his eyes at that. “All right. So what’s the deal between you and the rest of the Guardians? Obviously, you guys don’t see eye-to-eye with each other. Does this have anything to do with your past? Do I have to lay myself bare again for you to finally tell me the truth behind you?”

Hannibal’s smile is gentle as he cradles the back of Will’s neck, the touch soft and reverent. “My dear boy, for you I’ll lay myself bare with no reservations.”

“Then why don’t you?” Will struggles to keep his glare from slipping, though the way Hannibal touches him is becoming increasingly distracting.

“I think I’d prefer to do so inside my palace if you would oblige me.” Hannibal grins. “I promise I wouldn’t distract you until you see me fully, Will.”

Hannibal keeps his promise when they make their way back and Hannibal takes them to another room – a vast hall, a space which Will has never been to before. The spacious hall houses a long dining table, and the decorations of the space itself seems incongruous to Hannibal’s nature as the Nightmare King. The space looks like it was used by a monarchy to entertain their guests, though most of the furniture and draperies look worn and faded with time and disuse. The scene gives Will an odd sense of looking at something that’s frozen in time, and he feels displaced by it for a moment.

There’s a large portrait donning the mantelpiece above the fireplace in the hall, and Will blinks at it for several stunned moments. It’s the portrait of a young girl – a seven-year-old girl if Will has to guess – who bears so many similarities to Hannibal that it’s easy to conclude that she’s related to him.

“Mischa,” comes Hannibal’s voice from behind him, shattering the silence. “My sister.”

Will keeps his gaze on the portrait as Hannibal speaks, scared of breaking the moment.

“I was her caretaker, her sole guardian when our parents passed away,” Hannibal continues from within the darkening shadows. “My father died defending our kingdom against the Fearlings – they’re a plague on all sorts of creatures, visiting every planet in its bid to destroy whatever it can. Father fought bravely for several years, but the battle took its toll on him. Mother died of grief soon after, though she tried to hold on for our sakes.

“When they left us, I was the only one left to take up the mantle. I led our armies to defeat the Fearlings and all of their ilk, and it almost ruined the kingdom, but we defeated them. The ones which were not killed or destroyed were kept in a specially-made prison, deep beneath the castle. As someone who was seeking vengeance and catharsis, I offered to guard the prison myself, even as I was trying to carry out my duties to the kingdom.

“But victory had come at a cost. Our people were scattered, and it took too long and too much to regain and re-establish our once prosperous kingdom. It declined, day after day, and some sought shelter by migrating. I don’t blame them; I would’ve too if I could, but I had my duties to the kingdom and Mischa.”

Will’s heart is beginning to ache from the creeping sadness that envelops him; it’s almost as if the shadows are mourning as Hannibal speaks, the oppressive feeling growing heavier with every word.

“What happened, Hannibal?” Will’s voice reverberates through the hall, trepidation coloring his voice.

“The Fearlings have a way about them.” Hannibal’s disembodied voice echoes around the room, eerie yet comforting. “They whispered to me, in the darkness of those cells… I would try to close my ears and my thoughts to them, but they seeped through my consciousness eventually.

“It took them almost a century to break me, and by then the kingdom had already fallen into ruins. Whoever hadn’t left died long ago, and the Fearlings took advantage of that.”

“How?” Will whispers, eyes still on Mischa’s portrait.

“They used her voice against me.”

The darkness is suddenly absolute; the portrait and everything else vanishes and Will feels paralyzed by the heavy sorrow pressing into him. Will could see the scene playing out in front of him, even in the darkness. “Hannibal…”

“They imitated her to get me to unlock the doors to the prison.”

“Hannibal, please…”

“And it worked.” There’s an edge to Hannibal’s voice now, chastising himself for his foolishness. “It worked, even though I knew that Mischa had already died centuries ago, long before I managed to defeat the Fearlings.”

“Hannibal,” Will whispers. 

“Do you see me, Will?”

Though there’s only darkness around him, Will nods. “I see you, Hannibal. They became a part of you. You defeated them in the end, didn’t you? They became _your_ Nightmares.”

The silence is affirmation enough. “You really do see me.”

Will scoffs. “I thought we’ve established that. Will you please stop being an ass and let me in?”

Will thinks the next stretch of silence is probably due to Hannibal being all offended at his choice of words, which makes him smile in amusement. He sighs in relief when the shadows melt away and surround him instead, and there’s a few seconds before Will’s vision adjusts to the change. They’re no longer in the vast hall they were in earlier, and he finds himself in Hannibal’s chambers again.

They’re seated side by side on Hannibal’s bed, Hannibal seemingly staring at nothing.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Will says eventually.

“I lost them a long time ago,” Hannibal replies, his voice quiet with remembrance.

“That kind of loss can still hurt, even if it’s a millennium ago.”

Hannibal nods minutely. “I’ve locked away those memories for a long time.”

Will thinks back to the three hundred years he spent in solitude and tries to imagine how it must’ve felt like to be so alone for millennia. His pain had lessened with time, but then again, he hadn’t had to spend some time with his memories or nightmares.

“Do the other Guardians know of you before this?” Will asks, remembering Bev’s warning.

“They know pieces of it,” Hannibal says nonchalantly. “Guardians come and go. Those that survive have managed to adapt and evolve, as I have. I suppose as long as the children believe in the Guardians, they’d be sticking around for a long time.”

“Yeah, and then there’s someone like me,” Will sighs. “Stuck in a limbo.”

“You’re something of an aberration,” Hannibal agrees with a small smile.

“Thanks,” Will says dryly.

“A very welcomed one,” Hannibal adds. “Maybe one day you can adapt and evolve as well.”

Will shrugs. “I’ve been here for a while, even without children to believe in me. It doesn’t look like I’m disappearing anytime soon.” His gaze darts to Hannibal. “Anyway, I have you now.”

Hannibal’s smile is warm. “I suppose you do.”

Will returns the smile. “Want to go terrorize some children’s dreams tonight?”

The smile turns into a wide grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to the wonderful [Kai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_99/pseuds/Kai_99) who beta'd this chapter and made a very kinky suggestion which immediately sent me into smut-mode, so you can thank her for the extra filth in this chapter <3 (Also don't ask me what they use for lube; they're spirits, Susan.)
> 
> This will most likely be the last chapter for this particular AU, unless I can think of more things to add I guess. I admit I'm rather fond of these two and I've had a lot of fun with this 'verse. I also really want to thank those who've read, kudos'd and commented on this! Who knows, I might get inspired to write more, but in the meantime, I hope you've enjoyed my take on this universe <3


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